


An Exercise in Resurrection

by nightcalling



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Trailer Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21675427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightcalling/pseuds/nightcalling
Summary: Bond has risen from the dead an innumerable amount of times, but this takes the fucking cake, really.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 16
Kudos: 211





	An Exercise in Resurrection

**Author's Note:**

> Well. The new trailer dropped and I’m freaking out.

Bond has risen from the dead an innumerable amount of times, but this takes the fucking cake, really.

“So, you’re not dead.” How many times has he found himself saying that, back when Bond was still 007 and not just a file in their deceased records? Even so, those words sound funny on his tongue. Maybe because it’s been years. Maybe because he hadn’t really been expecting to…

To have to say them again. He’d made peace. And Bond has the nerve to stand there with that shit-eating grin all while looking well-groomed and put together, nothing like the sorry, dejected shape he should be in? Honestly, the audacity.

“Hello, Q.” Bond still has that shit-eating grin hanging on his face. “I’ve missed you.”

Q catches Moneypenny’s amusement when Bond barges into his flat like he owns the place, barely avoiding shoulder-checking him in the process.

Really. The _nerve_.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” Q whispers accusingly to Moneypenny, because she was supposed to be his friend. Judging from her calm demeanor, she and Bond have already been working together on some world-ending crisis for a good few hours, maybe even days, and they didn’t think to give him a ring?

“And miss the chance to see your reaction, which has been the highlight of my day?” Moneypenny gives him a look, the one that she uses whenever Q’s had a bit too much to drink and has accidentally spilled some secret on account of being slightly tipsy. Strange, considering Q is one-hundred percent sober at the moment. He usually doesn’t drink alcohol, anyway, much prefers tea, but nobody’s perfect.

“I don’t like this,” Q declares, closing the door and turning around to face the both of them. Bond has already made himself comfortable in his kitchen.

“Where are your—oh, here they are.” Bond opens the bottom cupboard and takes out a bottle.

“I was saving that for a special occasion,” Q supplies.

“Like now, when we’re having this nice reunion?” Bond fishes out some glasses to go along with the bottle and brings them all over.

“Like when I can finally retire in peace and not have to worry about you anymore.”

Bond downs his glass and fills it up again. “You’re too young to think about retirement.”

“Being in your company has made me age significantly faster than the normal human,” Q retorts. “In fact, these past five minutes have already shot me past sixty.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Bond says. A regular person on the street might argue he said it with fondness, but Q isn’t any regular person on the street, is he?

“Aren’t you technically on duty?” Q snatches the glass out of Bond’s hand and sets it down on his coffee table, the one he bought for himself the last time Bond disappeared into thin air.

“Oh, Q, give the man his drink.” Moneypenny hands the glass back to Bond and pours herself a glass. “You’ll need one after we catch you up.”

Q catches himself putting his hands on his hips (he’s been told it makes him look old). He folds his arms across his chest instead, trying to look properly affronted. “So, catch me up, then.”

~

It’s not great. Some lunatic is attempting to take over the world again.

“Don’t these people have better things to do?” If he had the power or money to take over the world, he’d try to make it better, not burn it to the ground.

“Evidently not,” Moneypenny smiles tightly. “We thought Silva and Blofield were bad news, but this is on another level entirely.”

“A day in the life,” Bond says from where he’s standing in front of the Picasso replica in the living area. “Not quite your style, is it, Q?”

“Just trying to spice up the place.” He’d bought that prior to buying the coffee table, and he’d never gotten around to taking it down. It looks sort of nice, actually, now that he’s glanced at it at least once every day since then.

Moneypenny is staring openly at him without saying a word. She was there when he’d bought the print, the two of them having been walking back to headquarters after taking lunch together.

He should make some more friends. The ones he has either know him too well or are prone to self-sacrificial gestures in a bid to protect mankind. He’s not sure which is more dangerous.

Bond is both, which makes him doubly dangerous.

“Everything alright, Q?” Bond’s voice brings him back to the present. Q would be embarrassed at having been caught mind-wandering and reminiscing under any other occasion, but he thinks the current situation warrants it.

“Fine.” He turns his attention to his laptop. “Did you need anything else? Or did you simply come to raid my kitchen?”

“I’m going to make a call,” Moneypenny says. “To, uh, M.” She was always a terrible liar.

Bond doesn’t wait for more than a second after she leaves before speaking again. “You’re the best at what you do. There’s nobody else that’d be up to the task.”

“The task,” Q echoes. “Please, we both know any agent up to snuff would be able to do this.”

Bond shrugs a shoulder. “Only you can do it…what was it you said? In your pajamas before your first cup of Earl Grey.”

“Well-remembered.” He closes his laptop with a snap. “You don’t need me, specifically. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go feed my cats.”

“I do need you.” Bond blocks his entrance to the kitchen, moving swiftly as ever. Pretending to be dead only made him faster, it seems. “Specifically.”

“Really. Why is that?”

“You’re the only one I trust.”

“Moneypenny.”

“You’re the only one I trust with something like this.” Bond leans forward into his space. “Come on, Q. It’s the fate of the world we’re talking about, here.”

Q sighs. He’s grown immune to Bond’s pleads. “Please move.”

“Not until you say yes.” Bond is wearing a grin again, but this one is softer. Kinder. Unguarded. It’s probably the most earnest expression Bond has ever allowed around him.

Q can pinpoint the moment his resolve wavers. Maybe he hasn’t grown completely immune. “If I do it, will you leave me alone?”

“If you come with me, I’ll leave you to buy Picassos and feed your cats to your heart’s content,” Bond promises.

Somehow, Q doesn’t really believe him. The entire notion that Bond will ever truly leave him alone seems silly, and it’s frankly quite ridiculous that he ever let himself believe it, even when Bond was dead.

“Well, let’s get cracking, then.”


End file.
